A Harp and Two Fiddles
by Cate Wolfe
Summary: Kíli and Fíli, wandering in the house of Elrond, find an elf who is more like them than anyone would have expected. Oneshot, sequel forthcoming.


A Harp and Two Fiddles

Fíli and Kíli roamed the halls of Elrond's house, carrying their violins with them.

They had left the cheekier elves behind in the outer rooms, and good riddance too. Though they did lay a good table, they asked far too many questions, and for the sake of politeness the dwarves had been obliged to play and sing a few of the shorter songs.

The elves had noticed Bilbo's silence, and had begun to tease him for a song or two from the Shire. Fíli and Kíli, seeing a good opportunity in Bilbo's stutters and protests, had made their bows and left.

They were now searching for some little-used room where they could work on a song (on which they had been working for some time) and not have what seemed like every elf and dwarf in Middle-earth hanging over their shoulders.

After only a few minutes of looking they had added an unlocked door to the list of looked-for qualities.

None of Elrond's unlocked rooms, at least, were very well suited for violin-playing. One was too small, another too large, another too covered in tapestries and carpets.

They had wandered very far indeed into the house of Elrond by this time, though through some strange fortune every room they had entered had been empty.

"How long have we been searching?" asked Fíli.

"I cannot tell," said Kíli, "the last window we saw was some time ago."

"It's been long enough," said Fíli. "I say if this next room does not suit we return."

Kíli nodded in agreement.

They did not think to listen at the door before trying the handle, though since every other unlocked door had led to an empty room they could perhaps be forgiven for this oversight.

Whatever their oversights, a dark-haired elf with a strange light in his eyes stood in the room, tuning a great harp.

Very softly and quietly (especially for dwarves) they stepped back, Kíli pulling the door shut, but they were too late, and the elf saw them.

All thought of secrecy abandoned, Fíli and Kíli tucked their violins under their arms and turned to run— in the wrong direction, I am afraid, but at least they tried.

Swifter than a snap of the fingers the elf was at the door. "Stop a moment," he said, and though he spoke softly anybody who heard him instantly knew his word was law. Kíli and Fíli stopped.

The elf stepped out into the hall, blocking their way of escape. Fíli gulped loudly, and tried to think of a way to use his violin as a weapon without damaging it.

Kíli took a step forward and opened his mouth. "Hail and well met!" he said, a bit shakily, and tried to summon some faint vestige of dignity as he bowed. "Kíli, at your service and your family's. You have my most humble apologies, and my brother's as well, for disturbing your solitude. If he or I can compensate in any way for—"

"It was not a disturbance," the elf said with a quietly amused smile. "Truly, this is a glad opportunity indeed, for even by elvish reckoning it has been a long time since I spoke with any dwarves."

"You could have come out with everyone else," said Fíli. "There are quite a lot more of us there."

The smile faded. "Many of the elves here have… grievances with me." The elf stood silent for a few moments, then smiled again and clasped his hands together. "Well! It seems I have forgotten my manners. Come in and sit down, Kíli and Kíli's brother! I have chairs, if dwarves still use those, though I fear they are quite the wrong size."

"My name is Fíli," said Fíli, bowing. "At your service and your family's, of course!"

"Really now," said the elf, very quietly, but Kíli had already started talking again.

"We use chairs when they are there," he said, "unless of course we would leave you with nowhere to sit!"

"I will find something for myself," said the elf, and held the door while the dwarves walked in.

The elf's room seemed a bit bare. The furniture was skilfully made, of course (all the elvish furniture was.) But it boasted none of those details that signify a house also being a home, except perhaps the harp.

The elf only had two proper chairs, but he dragged a cruder stool over from near his harp and sat on that. "Well." He leaned back in the chair and looked from Kíli to Fíli. "What brings you and your kin here? Elrond has refused to give me a straight answer."

"We are travelling," said Fíli.

"Of course you are." The elf began to look more like he were carrying on an interrogation. "Elrond told me that much, and he is a better secret-keeper than a liar, at least where I am concerned. But no one will tell why you are travelling, and I think they know."

"It is by no fault of ours if they do," said Kíli. "But I think you owe us an answer before we see if we care to give you another."

"That is fair enough," said the elf. "Question away; I have few secrets in these latter days."

"Well, you know who we are, but we have no idea who you are," said Kíli. "So who are you?"

"And with the first question you hit the first of my secrets- but for the time you may call me Lindir. It is accurate enough. Now for my question. Why are you travelling? Running off to reclaim the stolen treasure of your ancestors or some such foolhardy nonsense?"

If Lindir had not known how close to the mark he had hit, Fíli and Kíli's looks of panic soon informed him.

He laughed, and it was a little-used, despairing thing. "That is it! Dwarves of Erebor, all of you. However do you intend to get past the dragon?"

"That," said Fíli, "is our burglar's job. But if he should fail I am sure the rest of us can manage well enough."

"He is only a very small dragon, after all," said Kíli, who thought it sounded like a very brave kind of thing to say.

"Quite true," said Lindir. "My kin fought greater foes in the old days, and a few of them even survived."

"We're going to survive," said Fíli, "I'm sure of it. We're all going to survive."

"And I hope you do," said Lindir. "You seem to deserve it a good deal more than some people I have known."

"Don't tell anyone," said Kíli, hurriedly. "About our quest. It is hardly our fault you guessed, but we cannot have word getting out about it."

"You have my word," said Lindir. "I can keep a secret well enough."

"I hope you can!" said Fíli.

They lapsed into silence, both the dwarves attempting to edge out of their seats by invisibly small degrees.

Lindir stood, a joint creaking more than any elf's should. "I can see you want to leave," he said. "Thank you for your assistance. You and your kin have my blessing, for what it is worth."

"Undoubtedly it is worth a great deal," said Kíli, hastening to make up for any former impoliteness in his demeanor. "Surely someone as important as you must be on good terms with… well, with whoever handles blessings."

Lindir laughed again. "Think what you will! In days of yore the powers that be seemed to see fit to twist every blessing I gave into a curse— but their recipients were cursed already, and much has passed away since then."

"Thank you for letting us use your chairs," said Fíli. "I hope you do not take our going as an insult, but supper ought to be served soon and I would rather not miss it."

"Perhaps you might come out to the outer rooms sometime," said Kíli. "Bilbo would talk to you if you talked first, and after that some of the others would be sure to join in."

"Perhaps I shall," said Lindir, but they saw him not again.

~o~

Notes from the author:

I have tried to write Kíli here as slightly more mature, in accordance with The Hobbit's statement that he is the older of the two. Any analysis of the various characters' speech patterns (related to this or not) would be very welcome.

The sequel to this work, We Three Kings, should be out soon!


End file.
